Embracing Mystery
I love a good mystery, don't you? I grew up with the Hardy Boys, and then matured into P.D. James, Henning Mankell, and to Star Trek and beyond. But one of the things that makes for a good mystery is that it gets solved in the end. And one of the most satisfying endings is one we didn't see coming. We close the book or leave the theatre saying, "Wow!"
More and more, I find myself aligning with Mary Oliver, whose poem, "Mystery," expresses a different take:
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever in allegiance with gravity while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the scars of damage, to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say "Look!" and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.
I find myself bowing my head when just the right book or the right song or the right person finds its way into my life at just the right time. (You know who you are.) As Mary would say, "those who think they have the answers" would respond, "That's just a coincidence" or "That's serendipity." A dear friend of mine simply replies, "There are no coincidences," and I nod in assent.
Over the past several years, I have found myself in so many situations in which the best rational thinking I and others around me could muster was totally inadequate to explain something. Rather than dismiss this mystery or fear it or be angry about it, I now want to embrace it.
Many years ago, I happened upon a book, "The Christian Agnostic," (1965) by Leslie D. Weatherhead, who served as minister of the City Temple, London, for nearly 25 years. I was immediately drawn to it because of the title, which, on its face, presents an oxymoron. Weatherhead used a lot of technical theological argumentation to come down to the basic conclusion that there are some things that simply must remain "awaiting further enlightenment." That enlightenment may come at some unknown point in the future, or it may never come. And, importantly, that's ok. Accept the mystery.
As I walked alongside Susan on her medical journey, there were so many mysteries. We and her doctors did our very best to figure out what was going on neurologically. We can solve this mystery! We've got the best doctors and the most current research! But, in the end - no - we could not and did not solve it. Our medical mystery tour ended with no resolution. Our understanding of human life (and of our universe) is so limited. Today's textbooks are much fatter than the ones we studied back in the day. But so many volumes remain to be conceived.
I am drawn to the many writers on this platform who embrace concepts from Eastern philosophy and spiritual practice, and I am eager to learn more -- I think precisely because it doesn't view mystery as something to be solved, but rather, something to be lived into. The paradox is that something that seems beyond understanding can be as simple as becoming attuned to one's own breath. We don't actually have to UNDERSTAND it. We can simply let it happen. We don't have to tell our body to breathe. (Thank you, Thich Nhat Hanh.)
But being the rational beings that we are, we try to understand it and express our understanding in the ways we know: through words and music and movement and art. Each book or post or painting or poem or song or dance is necessarily incomplete, but each one also gives a tiny glimpse into some greater truth that we will never fully be able to grasp or articulate. For me, embracing mystery means embracing all those incomplete expressions and simply sitting with them. When it's too much to hold, then I turn to the advice given to the poet Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt (at "Writing to Give Back") by her therapist, who said, "Take what works, leave the rest."
While there is necessarily a solitary aspect to this journey, it is also very relational for me. In fact, relationships provide me the stimulation and nourishment that make it possible to move forward. I am so grateful to have found my way to this platform, where I have been able to have meaningful conversations with readers and fellow writers. It's all coming about at just the right time. Coincidence? I think not.
One mystery I have been pondering is how the words on this page actually got there. It's not that I had been consciously planning to write this post for the last 6 months. But over the last 6 months, I have had a series of profound, challenging, and beautiful conversations (in person and online) with several friends - some old, others very new; some on this platform, some not. (Again, you know who you are.) Last night before bed, I was reading Anam Cara, by John O'Donohue - a remarkable book sharing a Celtic perspective on the deepest meanings of friendship. With all of this stirring around inside, I slept a few hours and then awoke, firing on all cylinders, at 2:30 a.m. By 3, I realized that sleep would not be returning; in the meantime, several threads that appear in this post had begun to come in to focus in my mind. I went immediately to the computer (coffee not needed), and out it all poured. As I wrote, ideas rearranged themselves on the page. It reminded me of the simple chemistry experiment which starts with a saturated solution of salts dissolved in water. Tie a string on a pencil and suspend the string in the solution. As the solution evaporates, crystals will form on the string. It just needed the right elements and the right conditions to work its beauty. I experienced great pleasure in writing this piece, and I am so grateful for all those meaningful conversations and ways in which they catalyzed my writing. It wouldn’t have come about without all those conversations with others.
I know that other writers have experienced this mysterious process in various guises; I am always open to hearing others' stories. Thanks to an exchange with P. this morning, I ended up listening to a YouTube of Paul Simon recounting how he wrote "Bridge over Troubled Water." Quite remarkable.
That's all I have for the moment, and I deem it enough. But I can say with certainty that some of the themes introduced in this essay will become elaborated in future posts.
Yes, there's just some degree of irreducible mystery in life. Or, to put it another way, the ultimate Truth of whatever all of this is is actually not understandable at all, and rather, reason itself is just one process/entity within it. Trying to make sense of everything is like trying to make iron of everything. Sure, iron asteroids exist, but you wouldn't try to somehow force all stars and dust and planets and dogs and people (and dark matter and God knows what else is out there) to be iron asteroids. They just are what they are (though truly they are One, inseparable), and iron (reason) is what it is. To some extent, it can ask questions and define answers. But to think that there is an "answer" to everything is a fallacy, I think.
Such things are famously difficult to discuss, because by using words, we are necessarily conceptualizing, and there's just only so much that will fit into concepts. But there is a kind of wordless knowing that you can come to be familiar with if you just pay enough attention. You don't have to be sitting on a cushion with traditional Buddhist embroidery, you don't have to take psychedelics, and no such practice is a guarantee of anything. Besides paying attention (regardless of what I'm doing / what's going on), I have found a special kind of knowing in looking into the eyes of another sentient being. If you know, you know. It can't be put into words.
At the same time, even words (in whatever form) are still part of the interconnected Everything. So sometimes there's a funny kind of wordless knowing that can come from words. Paradoxes R us! This is why I love poetry.
Hal, I so enjoy our budding friendship. You are an amazing human being, and I am proud of the ways you continue to be curious and live a vibrant life even after going through tremendous loss. You give me so much hope and support. Thank you.
Hal, this piece resonates in so many ways, I barely know where to begin. So I will first thank you for giving me new words to describe my usual state: awaiting further enlightenment. Next, let me tell you what a surprise to find my name further down. I'm honored to be linked and glad my therapist's words continue to be shared. There will always be words we live by and his are a few. Now I have more to add to my guidebook, thanks to you. 💜 Finally, thank you for sharing part of your journey with Susan. As someone struggling with a neurological mystery, I know the frustration of words like idiopathic. It amazes me how far science has come, and yet we're still appallingly ignorant. We are all, indeed, waiting for additional enlightenment, aren't we? Blessings to you.